In the afternoon she always bought the fresh meat..
fresh vegetables, picked out the best of the best...
She didnt mind to stand in a long row to get the good stuff...
,as if she was going to serve Her Royal Highness..
Ones she was home she puts on the music ....
before she started making her art.....

She washed the vegetables as if they were her own baby,s..
She cut the meat as if it was a surgical operation...
She cooked the food as if Time was a matter of life and death...
and she baked it all as if these were the the last pieces on earth...
She mixed all the spices as if she wants you to tast "'the fruit of life""
The childeren who would play outside would come and take a peek trough the window...to see what was going on in there...
They were lucky somethimes when she would give them the spoons with the whipped cream and the bolw with the leftovers of the dessert and they would dig it out between heavy wrestlings....

When she was finished she would take a quick shower..
and comb her hair and put on a nice simple dress,put on some incense and light up some candles ....

and she would wait for him to come Home.......

Every night she cooked for him a fine meal....
prepared out of Love......

Oh noooo no sweet rich...i made a mistake i just changed it......
because its actually a sad poem..... i wrote And every night he went out for dinner but it is But everynight he went out for dinner....................